


Ain't no sunshine when he's gone

by pseudosmodingium



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Cas in his cell, Coda, Episode: s13e07 War of the Worlds, First Kiss, First Time, Love Confessions, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Prayer, Rescue Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-08 23:34:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12875433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudosmodingium/pseuds/pseudosmodingium
Summary: With nothing left to do but agonizing over his hopeless situation as a prisoner of Asmodeus, Cas starts to receive prayers from Dean, not knowing the Winchesters are coming to rescue him.When they've finally made it back to the bunker, Cas is still left in the dark about the true meaning of Dean's longing words and decides to confront him.





	Ain't no sunshine when he's gone

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, look, another coda for this episode! There's probably a hundred versions of this by now but I felt like writing it.  
> Here, have fun!

Two weeks have passed since Asmodeus had captured Castiel. One and a half of those, Cas had to endure Lucifer’s mood swings, alternating between outbursts of searing rage against the Prince of Hell, the demons, everyone…and unabashed self-pity.

He should have killed Lucifer the moment he noticed him in the park. The other angels fled because they hadn’t realized the Devil was mostly powerless. Cas, on the other hand, knows. Summoning the strength for the reddish glow of his eyes had been enough to make him struggle for air. Angels don’t necessarily rely on oxygen. Lucifer might not have lost all of his grace but compared to what he had been capable of before he was thrown into Apocalypse World, his powers are nothing more than cheap tricks.

Lucifer’s fits, however, haven’t even been the worst part of his imprisonment. He’s on his own in the dungeon that used to belong to Crowley anyway now that Lucifer has been taken by Asmodeus’ minions. To torture him, Cas assumes. Because he can. And possibly because Asmodeus sees him as a means to channel Jack. Cas, though, is confident this plan won’t work because Jack doesn’t want to be found. And definitely not by the Devil himself. If so, they would’ve been reunited by now and the world would be a different place. But not a better one.

It started after a few days—78 hours and forty minutes to be exact. At first he wasn’t quite sure what he was hearing. The voice was faint, like the words weren’t supposed to be received by him. But then the voice got louder and louder and it became clear that it was Dean’s.

Dean was praying to him. It wasn’t just the usual longing Cas could sense most of the time. Cas could almost see him, sitting on the bed in his room—Castiel’s room!—speaking aloud and trying to make contact.

In the beginning he would say things like _please call me._ It wasn’t much but Cas understood the urgency behind the words.

_I’m worried, man. Why don’t you call?_

_Texting is not calling. I want to actually_ _hear_ _you’re okay._

This is strange. He had been bereft of his phone as he was taken.

_Don’t be a dick. I wanna know you’re okay._

_Cas, for fuck’s sake, where are you?_

_Don’t you start on me with your important angel business crap! I know that’s bullshit._

_Cas, please. Sam and I, we want to find Jack, too. We’re a team, remember._

He understands why Dean is angry. He told him not to do anything stupid and he did. As usual, he did it all wrong.

He’s so mad at himself, he grips the bars of his cell hard until his knuckles turn white and screams. He screams until his human vocal chords are sore but it’s not enough.

He screams with his angelic voice, yet the walls suffer nothing more than a scratch.

Sure, he could do this as long as it takes to tear down the barriers but it could take decades. He doesn’t have the time and he ought to save his strength for whatever Asmodeus has planned for him. If he weren’t of any use to him, he would already be dead.

The following days go by without a message from Dean.

Cas feels anxious. There’s no way of knowing what’s going on out there. Asmodeus could have gotten ahold of the Winchesters. Or Alternate Michael. Or any random creature luring in the dark with a taste for human hunters.

He’s sick, so sick. He wants to throw up but he can’t because that’s not something angels do. Unless they’re injured, of course.

He feels like crying but that’s not an angel thing either.

Then he’s panicking. He hasn’t heard from Dean in days and if Asmodeus has killed him he wouldn’t tell Cas because not knowing is worse of a torture than mocking him with the ultimate defeat of the famous Dean Winchester.

But Cas knows from experience that Dean can take care of himself. He doesn’t need an angel to watch over him. Certainly not one that is as useless as he is.

Maybe the Empty was right. There’s nothing awaiting him here, no-one.

_Cas._

He listens.

_Cas, please don’t do this to me. Not again. You have no idea what I’ve been through when you were dead._

And he doesn’t. Not really. He knows the Winchesters and Jack mourned him, like they mourned their mother, maybe Crowley, and like the kid mourned his mom. They had time to grief, get over their losses and move on. Maybe there’s a little hope in them to save Mary from the parallel universe. Lucifer said she’s alive, though her sons don’t know this.

But he was dead. They had accepted this and, fortunately, didn’t take any foolish risks to bring him back. They couldn’t have done it anyway.

It was Jack who needed him back the most and he did it without being aware of the magnitude of his abilities.

But now that Cas has failed Jack, he’s no use to him.

He thought he could be a better father than his was but he was wrong.

A full minute passes before Dean speaks again.

_I was a mess, okay. Sam let me have beer for breakfast. I was a total asshole towards Jack ‘cause I made him responsible for getting you killed._

_He’s a good kid, I shouldn’t have done that._

_But you were gone and there was no way to bring you back._

His voice is still clear but shaky.

_Cas, I…_

There’s a long pause. Long enough for Cas to assume he’s finished his prayer.

_Castiel, please. I can’t go through this again._

His tone is heart-breaking and Cas wants nothing more than answer him.

He can’t.

 

Cas notices sounds of turmoil in the distance. He doesn’t know what’s going on. Maybe they got Jack or Jack came here voluntary to save his father.

He shivers as he considers the possibility of Michael having entered this world.

There’s yelling, appearing closer with every second passing and then one of the prison guards is thrown across the hallway on the other side of his bars.

“Rowena!” someone shouts in what is undoubtedly Sam Winchester’s voice.

Castiel squeezes his face between the magic bars of his cell as far as he gets but he can’t see who else is outside.

“Cas,” Dean calls and Cas responds by crying out his name, hopeful.

“Cas, thank god!” Dean says as he comes into view. “You’re alive.”

“Dean,” Cas says and grabs Dean’s arm through the bars.

“Step back,” Dean tells him and Cas does so.

In a rush, Dean reads a spell from a crumpled piece of paper and blows a brown powder from his palm onto the lock. It klicks and Dean flings the door open, holding a hand out for Cas who hurries to freedom without hesitation.

They head for the exit but three demons block their way.

Dean passes him an angel blade and stabs the first demon with another one. More demons keep coming but Dean and Cas have fought together many times and, moving back to back, they fend off the attacks.

When all demons are dead, they leave the dungeon and end up in another hallway.

“Where’s Sam?” Cas asks and Dean gestures him to turn right but a demon jumps out from an unlit corner.

Dean is hit in the head and stumbles a few steps back.

It takes a few attempts but eventually Cas manages to thrust his blade into the demon’s throat.

He didn’t notice another one coming up behind him but he can feel Dean stepping in his way and shielding him from the attacker.

He turns around only to see the demon dodge Dean’s strike and bury his blade into Dean’s abdomen instead.

“Dean!” His cry echoes in his ears as he instantly ends the demon.

“Dean, no,” Cas says and catches him as he sinks towards the dirty floor.

“Hold on.”

Dean looks at him, eyes wide open, his hands hovering over the haft that sticks out of him. His back arches and he wails in pain when Cas swiftly pulls out the blade. The move is followed by a great deal of blood flooding out of Dean’s wound and the weak sobs he lets out when Cas bores his fingertips into his flesh are almost too much to bear.

It takes longer than usual for the healing process to start. Cas suspects the spellwork his cell was built on has weakened him during the time he spent in there.

Dean’s eyes are overflowing with tears. He’s coughing up blood. His arms reach out for Cas’s coat and finally— _finally_ —Cas feels his arm tingle with grace and energy runs through his fingers right into Dean.

The blood is mostly gone when the wound has healed. Only a big stain on Dean’s shirt tells of how bad his condition was just a moment ago.

“I’m sorry this took so long,” Cas says.

Dean releases a strained laugh and Cas feels the warmth of his breath on his face.

He is still in Castiel’s arms and he seems to realize that he’s also still grasping the lapels of Cas’s coat so he lets go of them.

“Cas,” Dean says, almost in a whisper, and the way he looks at him has caused Cas to forget how to articulate himself.

When he finally regains the ability to speak, he doesn’t get much further as to open his mouth before Sam’s voice cuts through the air.

“Over here, Sammy,” Dean calls back and proceeds to get up, Cas helping him.

Not much later, Sam rounds a corner and jogs towards them.

“Hey, Cas,” he says, smiling. “You alright?”

“Yes, Sam. I’m fine.”

Then he sees the dark red blotch on Dean’s clothing.

“Dean,” he breathes, “are you okay? What happened?”

“It’s nothing, don’t worry. Cas took care of it,” he says. He’s got his arm on Cas’s shoulder, not strong enough yet to stand on his own.

“Rowena?” Dean asks.

“She’ll be alright,” Sam says. “Let’s go.”

 

Sam asks Cas a lot of questions on their ride home. What Asmodeus wanted from him, how long he’s been held captive, how Lucifer returned and what he told Cas about Mary.

Sam, on the other hand, tells him what they’ve been up to in the meantime; that they haven’t been able yet to track down Jack.

Dean doesn’t talk much. He throws in a comment of his own here and there but most of the communication consists of catching Dean look at him in the rearview mirror.

Sam fills him in on how they teamed up with Rowena to rescue him from Asmodeus’ dungeon and that Arthur Ketch has returned from the dead as well.

It’s long past midnight when they reach the bunker. Sam has been trying to stifle his yawns for over an hour and Cas tells him not to stay up any longer out of politeness.

On the way to his room he walks by Dean’s and finds the door ajar. He announces himself with two knocks on the door frame and strides in.

Dean stands by the small sink, his bloody shirt on the floor, and holds a washcloth under the stream. Dried blood blemishes his perfect skin where the blade cut deep into him. But the wound, luckily, is gone, not even a scar left.

“Hey,” Dean says.

“Dean,” Cas starts but trails off and pushes the door shut as he leans against it.

He doesn’t even know what to say. How many more times does he need to say sorry to even out the many failures?

Dean doesn’t want to hear any of it, he knows.

Lacking an idea to begin a conversation with, he walks up to Dean, takes the washcloth from him and wrings it out. It’s warm in his hand. He brings it to Dean’s stomach and starts to gently wipe away the blood.

As he does so, Castiel doesn’t dare to look Dean in the eye but he can feel his burning gaze. He hears Dean’s little gasps every time the washcloth touches his skin anew and he only so much sees that his mouth is slightly open. Mainly his eyes are fixed on the spot where the stab wound used to be.

When his work is done, Cas washes the cloth as good as possible, wrings it out again, carefully places it over the edge of the sink and dries his hands with the towel hanging from the hook next to it.

He’s still standing very close to Dean but he hasn’t complained about it yet, although Cas knows how much Dean values personal space.

Neither of them says a word and eventually Cas brings up the courage to properly look at him.

He wants something, Cas is certain, but he doesn’t know what because Dean never spells it out.

“Dean, I’m sorry,” he blurts out.

He doesn’t know why he always apologizes and what for exactly. For not answering him? That’s hardly his fault.

“I could hear your prayers,” he says.

“You did?” Dean looks like he hadn’t expected them to reach Cas.

“They kept me from going mad in there,” he says. “Thank you.”

Dean gives him a tender smile. “You’re welcome.”

He wants Dean to clarify what he meant by _you have no idea what I’ve been through when you were dead._ This can’t solely be about the grief he’s had to endure. Dean has experienced grief before in his life. Too many times.

“My dying put a huge burden on you and Sam’s shoulders,” he says. “I was supposed to take care of Jack, to foster and educate him.”

“I think Sam’s found a purpose in doing this job for you in the meantime,” Dean says with a twinkle in his eye.

“You had to process so much all at once. I know this was a hard time for you.” Castiel feels like they’re moving in circles. This conversation is not going anywhere.

But, oh, Cas knows where he _wants_ it to go.

Minutes have passed and Dean still hasn’t backed away. Cas can hear Dean’s heartbeat, pumping blood through his veins. He feels the humidity in Dean’s breath.

And every fiber in his body screams _kiss him kiss him kiss him._

But he doesn’t.

He doesn’t know if he’s allowed to. If Dean wants it, too.

Asking seems so easy in theory but the request doesn’t make it past his lips. All that comes out is a feeble sigh.

Dean’s eyes focus on his mouth like he’s expecting Cas to form actual words.

“What do you want from me, Dean?”

He’s not sure if he’s really said it out loud but judging from Dean’s sudden frown he has.

He gets the confirmation when Dean asks, “What do you mean?”

Cas would very much like to yell at him in response to that. _What do you mean?_

What the fuck _does_ he mean?

“Dean, I love you, deeply, and all I’d like to do right now is kiss you.”

He couldn’t possibly have expressed himself more clearly and his words seem to have brought Dean’s synapses to work because for a split second his eyes dart to his mouth.

In the moment that follows, Cas thinks he’s able to hear every single sound in the universe. Millions of planets explode at once into glorious fireworks when Dean’s lips touch his and nothing in creation could’ve ever been this beautiful.

When his mind finally comprehends the full meaning of this situation, Cas kisses him back with fervor.

He buries the fingers of one hand into Dean’s hair and pulls him closer and presses the palm of the other against the bare skin of his lower back. Dean, in return, holds onto his coat for dear life but soon after, his hand mirrors the gripping of hair.

“I never thought you’d want this,” he breathes into Castiel’s mouth, in dire need for air.

“Of course I do,” Cas replies before hurriedly closing the distance between their lips again.

“Couldn’t get over you,” Dean gasps, trying not to stop the kissing for too long. “Life was _(kiss)_ meaningless _(kiss)_ without you.”

“I came back for you,” Cas tells him.

Then Dean lets go of him and takes a step back.

“Take off the coat and show me you won’t leave me again,” Dean says.

Cas does it, slowly, and hangs the coat on the hook on the door.

“How is that?” he asks with a smirk.

“You’re too far away,” Dean says. “Get over here.”

Dean almost loses his balance when Cas darts forward and crashes into him. Cas touches him wherever his fingers make their way on his unclothed skin as they kiss and Dean tears at Castiel’s jacket until it comes off, followed by the tie.

“Are you okay with this?” he asks under his breath when his shaking fingers find the buttons on Cas’s shirt.

“Very,” he replies and helps Dean work them open.

He’s aware how hard Dean is. It’s the same for him. He’s never wanted anyone like he wants Dean.

Then, without a warning, Dean comes to a halt. He stares at him as his hands leave Cas’s body and trail down to his belt buckle instead.

“If I’m making you uncomfortable, you have to tell me,” he says as he opens the belt first, then his fly.

Cas groans in response, opens his own pants, pulls them down and Dean follows suit.

“I’m all the way in,” Cas says.

“Good,” Dean replies and drags Cas with him onto the bed.

They kiss some more, not lacking any of the passion from before and then Dean makes sure to get rid of their underwear as well.

“Do you even know how much I’ve wanted this... Wanted you,” Dean blabs, high on endorphins, while Cas kisses his neck.

“You didn’t tell me,” he says and Dean playfully slaps his shoulder.

“I’m telling you now.”

“Yeah, what are you telling me?”

“Blow me, Cas,” Dean says and Cas is quite sure this wasn’t supposed to be taken literally but moves further down anyway.

“Cas, do you even know what you’re doin—aaah, yes you do, fuck!”

Needless to say, Cas doesn’t reply.

“Get back up,” Dean says then.

“Was this not—”

“No, it was,” Dean reassures him, “but we can do this anther time. For now, I’d like to kiss you more.”

Instead, Dean retrieves a bottle from his nightstand drawer and squirts some lube on his hand. “We can do this,” he says and begins to move his hand smoothly along both their erections.

“Is this good?”

“Hmm,” Cas hums against his lips while they both thrust into Dean’s fist.

“I love you,” Dean whispers and only then Cas realizes he hadn’t said it yet.

There’s definitely no hurry as they move against each other, yet it doesn’t take either of them very long to finish.

They lie still for a few minutes afterwards until Cas asks, “Was it this you were longing for when I was dead?”

“No,” Dean says and leaves the bed. He grabs the towel hanging by the sink and cleans them real quick.

After discarding the towel on the floor, he signals Cas to move so he can pull out the blanket from underneath him and then gets back into bed and hauls the covers over both of them.

“It was this,” he says, sneaking an arm under Cas’s shoulder blades and pulls him closer until Castiel’s head rests on his chest.

“It’s perfect, Dean,” Cas says and cuddles even closer up to him.

“Just perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did you enjoy it? I sure hope so. If not...don't tell me.  
> Thank you for your time.


End file.
